


Why is my husband like this

by Cheesecloth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Bastard Husbands (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Minor references to Animal Crossing: New Horizons, Post-Apocalypse, Random & Short, Someone said it so I'm gonna add it as a tag, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth
Summary: Oh, poor, poor Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale shimmied into the Bentley with unrestrained glee. 

"I hope you don't mind me bringing my tea, darling. Anywhere I could put it, perhaps, while I read on our way to Edinburgh?" 

Crowley raised a brow at him, and Aziraphale merely shimmied again. 

"Er, yeah. Cupholder's right there," he gestured towards an actual cupholder that Aziraphale had never seen before. There was something already there, so Crowley must have miracled it just recently. 

Smiling brightly at his darling husband in thanks, he goes to slip his favorite mug into the second cupholder slot, only to fully register the other being currently occupied. 

It's a fresh can of Cambell's Spaghetti-O's with a bendy straw poking through a makeshift hole at the top. 

Aziraphale slowly looks at his husband, who is the picture of demonic innocence. 

"What?" 

"My darling. My beloved. My heart." 

"Ye?" Crowley starts the car, looking into the rearview mirror even though there are no cars in front or behind them. There's a hint of a smirk there. A hint that gives Aziraphale everything he needs to know that this atrocity was committed on purpose. 

"I'm going to throttle you." 

Crowley spams into abrupt laughter. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Crowley, darling, where are you?" Aziraphale asked. He's searched the usual spots of Crowley's flat but there's no sign of the demon anywhere. His presence is here, Aziraphale could feel it, but they both decided that for his safety from Hellions, his exact pinpoint location is skewered and blurred. There's plenty of interdimensional pockets and secret rooms in the flat that Crowley could hide out anywhere for years without being found. But they weren't his favorite parts of the flat. 

His lovely demon husband enjoys the overhead glass window ceiling that absorbs all and any sunlight over Mayfair. There's a lounge of stretchy chairs the shape of blobs that line around the room in fanciful dark colors. Placed perfectly so that a very large snake could rest just as easily as a human-shaped Crowley could. 

There's a room that his husband particularly likes that is dark and humid from the misty warm fans. Quite a few heating lamps line that room like a warm glow when it's too cold outside for Crowley to comfortably skulk. 

And then there's the plant room. 

But none of these lovely rooms contain Crowley at the moment. He's nowhere to be found. Aziraphale huffs, he's starting to get frustrated. 

For the next few minutes, Aziraphale checks every secret room. Every interdimensional pocket. Every bathroom (he has far too many, surely), and every kitchen (he doesn't mind that there's quite a few). He checks the car garage, which is a few floors above what a normal car garage would be. The Bentley softly honks in greeting but has no answer as to the whereabouts of Crowley. He pats her with an indulgent smile before sighing dramatically. 

"Where is that daft demon," he made an attempt at a growl. He's no good at it. Crowley's much better at that sort of thing. 

For the fifth time, Aziraphale checks the master bedroom. The one with the biggest, silkiest bed, and Crowley's favorite plant. He doesn't yell at this poor dear. Aziraphale caresses one of the leaves and idly recalls the day he gave it to Crowley. His first housewarming gift for the demon, years too late. The plant shimmied in a familiar manner, and Aziraphale shimmied back before remembering himself. 

"Ooh, I'll find him, my dear. He's going to have a stern talking-to. Where on earth in this flat could he be?" 

Just then, a very loud hiss sounded from above. 

Aziraphale flinched and peered upwards. "That fucker," he growled. He finally got it right this time. But he paid his new success no heed when he was too busy glowering at the sleeping demon on the ceiling. 

Another hiss sounded again. Usually, the demon's version of snoring is quite charming. Right now, however, it seems to be testing his angelic morality. 

The plant beside him shifted slightly, and Aziraphale turned his harsh gaze to it. When it started shaking a small fraction, Aziraphale shook his head and sighed deeply. 

"I'm sorry for swearing, dear one. I know how Crowley gets when it comes to bad influences near his favorite little angelic Pilea." He decided not to think about that. 

Instead, he gave the demon above one more pout before the prickle of something mischievous came over him. 

With a delighted smile and a vengeful skip to his walk, he carried the Pilea out of the room to watch some Bake Off. Surely Sue and Mel are totally angelic role models for the little plant. 


	3. Chapter 3

It's a fantastic day at the beach. The sun is soaring high, and Aziraphale is thriving. His husband is slithering in the sand somehow, despite not being a snake at the moment. 

"It's so lovely out today, isn't it, darling?" Aziraphale smiles at the empty sands around them. Crowley had found them a private beach. No snotty-nosed children throwing sand everywhere and no drunk adults littering their canned beers in the sand. 

"Eee." Crowley answers vaguely. 

Aziraphale raises his eyebrow but does not remark on the brevity of Crowley's wit. He instead basks in the sun as if he, himself, were the snake of the two. And that's a thought for later, he distantly thinks. Being a snake for a day. Could be fun.

Crowley looks shifty after a while of lovely breezes and calm waves. Aziraphale desperately wants to ignore it for the sake of his sanity, but he has a feeling that just because they were on a private beach, it doesn't mean he will be free of chaos. 

"Crowley," he dully warns. 

Said demon slowly turns to him with a big toothy smirk. Those charming fangs of his bared. His hands are behind his back. 

"Whatever you plan to do, love, you'd better not," Aziraphale huffed. 

"Why not?" Crowley asks simply. Aziraphale narrows his eyes at him. 

"We're having a wonderfully tranquil day today, my darling." 

"Mm. Yeah. But aren't you tired of wonderfully tranquil days, dove? Don't you just wanna go wild?" Crowley asks, sauntering closer. 

Aziraphale scoffed. He dug himself into his fluffy towel and prepared himself for the worst. 

Crowley came up behind his head, kneeled into the warm sands, and he kissed Aziraphale's forehead. Aziraphale promptly melted. 

"Aw, my darling, you- EEK! Crowley!" 

Crowley had dumped a pile of sand down the back of Aziraphale's fashionable leotard. Sand is the absolute worst! Even miracled away, it feels like it will never truly be gone from his body. 

"You absolute fiend!" 

"I'll miracle it away," Crowley giggled. 

But no. Aziraphale had something else in mind. With a not-so-angelic grin, he scooped up some sand and miracled it to a cold temperature that would make his darling squirm. 

"Angel," Crowley laughed, "What're you gonna do with that sand, huh? It's already tired. I already did that. Get creative- NGK!" 

With the cold sand trailing down the back of Crowley's very tight black shirt, the demon's shoulders hunched up and he gasped loudly. 

Aziraphale chuckled darkly, much to Crowley's distracted amusement. 

"Fuck, angel, y-you really- how cold is- agk-" 

"I'll simply give it a miracle, shall I, my dear?" Aziraphale amended, kissing the demon's nose and miracling warmth into him again. 

Crowley melted for about half a second before he guffawed in disbelief. "You only miracled the sand warm again! You- angel!" 

Aziraphale wiggled and miracled every damned speck of sand on his being away. He then rested back on his towel and smirked up at the demon. 

"-Gk, I fucking love you, angel. You're a wild menace, for sure." 

The angel scooped up the book he'd finished earlier and started the pages back at the beginning. "We're compatible for a reason, darling." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i get a waHoo?

Aziraphale blinked repeatedly. He hadn't been aware that he'd been staring at his husband from across the room for the last hour. 

Crowley's expressions were so lovely though. The demon was playing a video game that he had miracled for himself not too long ago. Aziraphale has lived long enough to recognize tale-tell signs of obsession. When he asked Crowley about it, he'd just shrugged and said, "That's Animal Crossing for you, babe." 

Aziraphale frowned. The demon had also become flustered as of late. He wondered what was making Crowley blush and stammer whispered keyboard smashes while clicking and flicking away on the Switch's little buttons and dials. 

It was... impossibly cute. 

Without preamble, Aziraphale stood and stretched briefly. He made his way over to the couch that Crowley was sprawled upon, but he hadn't noticed him. His gaze was still intensely on whatever task or character that grabbed at his attention. 

He leaned over Crowley's shoulder to see, and he had to stifle a giggle. 

Oh, it was no wonder the poor demon was flustered! 

Aziraphale had done his own research of the game. The curiosity was unbearable. He hadn't seen Crowley so carefree and guileless in a long while. It was only natural that Aziraphale's search would come across a character that even he thought was similar to him. 

Blathers, the studious owl that adored research, books, and the life of the earth. There was one adorable exception of course. The poor dear loathed and shivered at even the notion of bugs. The tartan-like pattern of Blathers' chest feathers and the little bowtie was certainly reminiscent of the angel. Aziraphale had found it charming. 

And so, apparently, did Crowley. 

There is quite literally nothing more endearing in the world than watching Crowley form an easy crush over a fictional character that happened to remind him of Aziraphale. 

The little owl on the screen cheered a " _Hootie hoo_!", and Crowley "Ngk'd". Then the owl shyly rubbed the back of his head with his wing and blushed. Small pink flowers twirled and faded away around him. Crowley promptly melted into the couch. 

It was so cute that it gave Aziraphale an idea. 

  
\--- 

  
Crowley warily watched the backroom door leading out into the library. His husband had promised him a darling little surprise. He didn't trust it. He trusted the angel, sure. But said angel could be a right bastard when he wanted to. 

"'Ziraphale, when're you gonna come _in_? 'M more than curious to see what 'surprise' you've cooked up... Hope it's wine..." 

He adjusted himself on the armchair to lounge a bit like a snake-like being ought to rest. 

He tilted his head up at the sound of familiar footsteps and the slow opening of the door. Why it was even closed was beyond him-

"NGK! **What**!" Crowley's spine couldn't figure out how to meld into the cushions. Nevertheless, he fell into a shocked slouch and stared at his husband. 

Aziraphale came in, sporting a mischievous and delighted smile, as well as a new wardrobe. Instead of his usual cream-colored coat, he was wearing a dark brown one. It was opened up, and the diamond-patterned tartan-ish sweater underneath was suspiciously like... Oh! He was wearing a green bowtie as well. His villainous blue eyes sparkled. 

It was... it was too much. 

Crowley took a great big eyeful before turning into the cushion pillow and screaming into it. 

Aziraphale merely laughed. "Oh my dear, you're a _hoot_." 

"Ggggggk, shhhut up 'ngel," came the muffled cry from the pillow. 

His face was burning red. Not quite as ginger as his hair, but too close to it. He turned again so he can take in a gasp of air. 

"Wh-hhh- why even do thisss?" Crowley whimpered. 

Aziraphale came closer and kissed the top of his head. Crowley felt his ears burn intensely. 

"I think it is rather flattering that you have a crush on that Blathers fellow because he's a little like me, dear." 

Crowley scrunched his nose and pouted. His face still burned so bright. 

"It'sss embarrasssssing," he whined. 

"Crowley, we're married." 

The demon turned back into the safety of the pillow. "Ssssstill." 

Aziraphale chuckled, undeterred. 

"Nevertheless, dear... It appears my bookshop is rather like a museum... I find myself in need of more to safeguard and keep, as the principality of this small domain..." 

Crowley made an incomprehensible set of expressions into the pillow. "Hngk?" 

"It would mean the world to me if you were to donate something, dear." 

Crowley braced himself weakly. He turned a little on the armchair and his one visible golden eye peered at Aziraphale with conflicted amounts of love, adoration, and anticipative disdain. "Nnn... what?" 

"Why," Aziraphale leaned in, "I think it would be rather lovely of you to _donate_ your heart!"

"Ngk!- What does that even _mean_? Agk- angel!" 

Aziraphale clutched his hands to his chest and pouted cutely. "Oh pretty please?" 

"You... you already have it, angel," Crowley whispered. He felt overwhelmed with emotion, but he would not look away from the happy heart-eyes his husband was giving him. 

"Oh- I must say- I- oh darling, _hoo~_ ray!" 

Crowley looked away. He _more_ than looked away. He plopped his cherry-red face back into the pillow and screamed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one can ever take italics away from me  
> I will italicize whatever I want, thank you very much >:3c


End file.
